


Uninhabit

by Old FF Stuff (VergofTowels)



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Birth, M/M, Mpreg, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VergofTowels/pseuds/Old%20FF%20Stuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Irkens are invading, but Zim isn't a part of it. Instead, he must focus on how to deal with the last remnants of his failed attempt to take over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninhabit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 2/6/10.

It was dark under the bridge. Very dark, though the sliver of sky visible through the imperfect stonework above him was tinged a vibrant orange. Orange with the sun? Orange with flame was more likely. Every now and then the light would dim or rise or turn yellow in flashes that hurt his eyes. He sat in the shadows and clutched himself and didn’t think.

The invasion had begun two months ago. Against his hope, the humans had gathered enough of their puny wits to form an army to combat his people. _His people._ He hissed violently, his antennae flattening against his head in a position of aggression. His people had branded him a traitor. No. They had ignored him. It was worse. It was worse.

He jumped and trembled at the sound of gunshots. This physical reaction of fear… He couldn’t control it. He instead pressed himself into the stone of the bridge and hid deeper in the crevice he had been calling home. He closed his eyes.

 _The Dib-thing was standing there like he had been before; hadn’t moved since Zim had pulled away in horror._ What are you doing?! _he wanted to shout, his hands coming up in claws to grip the air between them._ What kind of thing do you call this? _His face burned where Dib’s mouth had been, his skin blistering slightly. This was an attack! Some bizarre human ritual… He felt that feeling in his chest again and his antennae dropped despite himself. He didn’t like it. Didn’t want it._

_The computer told him it was a… kiss. A human exchange of affection. Affection? Define. Love? What was this? Why did he have it?_

_Dib had made him sick._

The sound of fighting had faded. Zim dared to raise his head from where it had been tucked against his arm. He perked up, alert, listening. The smell of fire was in the air, and the disgusting smell of human blood. He laid his head again on the sleeve of his fake-skin coat. That had been a gift. It smelled like dirt now, though it hadn’t, once. 

_He tracked him down, after staying away. The expression on the Dib’s face was amusing when Zim caught up to him, though the Irken was in no mood for laughter. He grabbed the human’s shirt and pulled him down to Zim-height, forced their lips together, ignored the discomfort._ Take it back! _he said, and smashed them together again. Take it back, take it back, take it back. I don’t want your human affection. Give it to someone else._

_Stop making me think about you._

It was dark again. Safe, or as close as it ever was. He got to his knees and then to his feet, using his Pak legs to assist him. It was difficult to move now, but he could. He needed to eat, though he didn’t want to. His body rejected human food, but it was necessary to maintain his condition. With all the vomiting, he was surprised that it had been effective, but the bulge was still there. Presumably so was the-

He slid down the bank to the water’s edge, careful not to touch the stinking river. Gingerly, he made his way out from under the bridge, shading his eyes against the glare. There were no humans around. No Irkens, either. That was good. Or bad. He didn’t know anymore. But his stomach twisted uncomfortably again and he was forced to ascend the riverbank to the street. One of the houses on this street was still ablaze, and the smoke poisoned the air. Zim avoided it. He picked his way through the debris on the sidewalk, using his spider arms to get over the mashed-up cars and cracks in the asphalt. He wished his base had not been wrested from him by the Tallest. He wished that he still had a computer. He wished for familiar ground.

There was a store on this street and it had things Zim could eat in it. Dry things, and milk things. He didn’t have to unlock the broken door, just climbed though into the maze of plastic shelves. Most of the food was gone, taken by other refugees like himself, or by the armies. But here was one more package. He lifted it off the floor, ignoring that it had been stepped on and was open. The humans called these things chips. Well, they would do. He forced a handful of them into his mouth, already ready to return to his hole. The swollen skin of his abdomen throbbed.

The thing hadn’t been moving lately. It had grown too big. Nine months, Dib had said. Nine months and then it will be ready. Birth, he had called it. Zim was not ready. Where was Dib to help him now?

 _It had been tentative at first, this connection. He did not want to admit that he was afraid. But Dib could tell. Dib pointed out the quivering antennae, the rapid pulse in his throat._ Filth! _he screamed, and_ Lies! _That was how he defended himself. But he couldn’t defend himself from Dib’s soft fingers, or Dib’s kisses, or his love. Why had it happened this way? That the same stupid worm-baby who had derived so much pleasure from melting his skin should now marvel at its texture and stroke it and kiss it… It boggled the mind._

_But not as much as sex did._

The pain was something he was not used to. Burning and smashing and breaking; those he had felt before. This was new. He didn’t like it. It came in waves, like an invasion. And this was an invasion, this alien creature in his belly. Nine months and it still didn’t feel like his. No, this was Dib’s… thing. His baby. His smeet. The pain racked him again and again. He dug his fingers into the ground and tried not to cry out. No one could find him. Them. It.

He was going to kill that… To kill…

 _His antennae were glued to his head._ What is this?! _he demanded, and brandished the picture at Dib. He wouldn’t go close enough to be touched. Not after seeing… that._ Where did you get that? _asked the human, his face turning red like in embarrassment and anger. He pushed up his glasses and Zim decided it was the former._ That’s nothing. It’s sex.

_There was no sexual mating on Irk. There was no need. Everything was done with the computer. There was no need for parents on a planet that was devoted solely to war. You did not love. Zim thought of his unfeeling robot arm…_

We are not doing that, _he said._

Why did it hurt so much if you were supposed to want this? He could feel the thing’s head pressing against his pelvis. He thought he saw an antenna. He shuddered weakly and scratched at the wall. There was more fluid and then more pain. 

_Dib had tricked him into it. His touching had done something. And though he kept saying_ Are you sure, are you sure, _Zim could not think enough to answer. He concentrated on Dib’s hands on his back and the feel of the sheets across his legs. He submitted to Dib’s height. There was a pain, and then there were no more words. His antennae vibrated, and he may have trilled. Dib expelled liquid. Zim did not. He did not know what was coming._

He had surrendered and now he, and Earth, were feeling the consequences.

The thing had a big head. He almost laughed.

 _Dib said_ No, that’s not a disease, that’s a baby. _Dib said_ Don’t pull it out. _Dib said. Dib said…_

 _He said_ We can be its parents. _He said,_ If we love it it will grow up to be good. _He said!_

_Zim did not pull it out. He let it live among his guts and watched it grow and suffered for it._

He left it lying there for a minute. It was still and silent. This was not how it was supposed to be, was it? He knew what babies were, and they cried. This one was still. And silent.

 _Dib was outside when his people came. The red ships swarmed and curled on the summer air. Dib screamed_ I was right! I was right! _but no one heard him over the sounds of lasers. Eventually he stopped screaming when Zim pulled the shrapnel out of his back._

 _He said_ I love you _when he died._

The baby needed a Pak. He was Irken enough that he couldn’t live here, alone. Zim only had one.

_The sound his last breath made_

The sound the Pak made when it connected to the spine was a familiar one. The baby breathed. And then he cried. It was quiet and confused. Zim took him into his arms and said “Welcome to Earth.” The baby’s eyes were gold.

_That sound_

Zim said “Go to Gaz.” He hated to leave. It was too soon. He wanted to be a parent, now. Now he could see the baby. The baby had black hair. Hair! On an Irken. He said “Go to Gaz.” The Pak knew about her. It would listen, and take his baby, too.

The spider legs left the bridge and went up the riverbank.

Zim went to find Dib.


End file.
